THE COUNT AND THE DAUPHIN
1456-1461
The picture of the Burgundian court rejoicing in happy unison over the
advent of an heiress to carry on the Burgundian traditions, with the
dauphin participating in the family joy, shows the tranquil side of
the first months of the long visit. Before Mary's birth, however, an
incident had occurred, betraying the fact that the dauphin and Charles
VII. were not the only father and son between whom relations were
strained, and that a moment had arrived when the attitude of the Count
of Charolais to the duke was no longer characterised by unquestioning
filial obedience.
Charles was on his way to Nuremberg[1] to fulfil a mission with
certain German princes when the dauphin alighted in Brabant, like "a
bird of ill omen," as he designated himself on one occasion. The count
did not return to Brussels until January 12, 1457. Thus he took no
part in the hearty welcome accorded to the visitor. It is more than
possible that the heir of Burgundy was not wholly pleased with the
state of affairs placidly existing by mid-winter.
Instead of resuming the first position which he had enjoyed during his
brief regency, or the honoured second that had been his after Philip
came back, Charles was now relegated to a third place. Further,
without having been consulted as to the policy, he found that he
was forced into following his father's lead in treating a penniless
refugee like an invited guest, whose visit was an honour and a joy. It
is more than probable that Charles was already feeling somewhat hurt
at the duke's warmth towards Louis when a serious breach occurred
between father and son about another matter.
It chanced that a chamberlain's post fell vacant in his own household,
and the count assumed that the appointment of a successor was
something that lay wholly within his jurisdiction. When the duke
interfered in a peremptory fashion and insisted that the appointment
should be made at his instance, the son refused to accept his
authority, especially as his father's nominee was Philip de Croy, one
of a family already over-dominant in the Burgundian court. At least,
that was Charles's opinion. Therefore, when he obeyed his father's
commands to bring his _ordonnance_, or household list, to the duke's
oratory, he unhesitatingly carried the document which contained the
name of Antoine Raulin, Sire d'Émeries, in place of Philip de Croy.
The duke was very angry at this apparent contempt for his expressed
wishes. Indignantly he threw the lists into the fire with the words,
"Now look to your _ordonnances_ for you will need new ones[2]."
There was evidently a succession of violent scenes in which the
duchess tried to stand between her husband and son. But Philip was
beside himself with wrath and refused to listen to a word from her or
from the dauphin, who also endeavoured to mediate[2].
Finally, the irate duke lost all control of himself, ordered a horse,
and rode out alone into the forest of Soignies. When he became calmer
it was dark and he found himself far from the beaten tracks, in the
midst of underbrush through which he could not ride. He dismounted and
wandered on foot for hours in the January night until smoke guided him
to a charcoal burner, who conducted him to the more friendly shelter
of a forester's hut. In the morning he made his way to Genappe.
Meantime, in the palace, consternation reigned. Search parties seeking
their sovereign were out all night. No one, however, was in such a
state of dismay as the dauphin, who declared that he would be counted
at fault when family dissensions followed so soon on his arrival.
Delighted he was, therefore, to act as mediator between father and
son after the duke was in a sufficiently pacified state to listen to
reason. Charles betook himself to Dendermonde for a time until the
duke was ready to see him[4]. His young wife made the most of her
expectations to soften her father-in-law's resentment, and between
her entreaties and those of the guest, proud to show his tact and his
gratitude, the quarrel was at last smoothed over.
There was one marked difference between this family dispute and the
breach between the French king and the dauphin. In the latter case no
feeling was involved. In the former, the son was really deeply wounded
by what he deemed lack of parental affection for his interests. At the
same time he was shocked by the bitter words and was, for the moment,
so filled with contrition that he was eager to make any concession
agreeable to the duke. He dismissed two of his servants[5], suspected
by his father of fomenting trouble between them, and he showed himself
in general very willing to placate paternal displeasure.
Reconciliation between duke and duchess was more difficult. Isabella
resented Philip's reproaches for her sympathy with Charles. She said
she had stepped between the two men because she had feared lest the
duke might injure his son in his wrath[6]. This was in answer to the
Marshal of Burgundy when he was telling her of Philip's displeasure.
She concluded her dignified defence with an expression of her utter
loneliness. Stranger in a strange land she had no one belonging to her
but her son.
She was certainly present at the baptism of her grandchild, but
shortly afterwards she retired to a convent of the Grey Sisters,
founded by herself, and rarely returned to the world or took part in
its ceremonies during the remainder of her life.
The quarrel, too, left its scar upon Charles. It is not probable that
he had much personal liking for the guest upon whom his father heaped
courtesies and solicitous care. On one occasion, when the two young
men were hunting they were separated by chance. When Charles returned
alone to the palace, the duke was full of reproaches at his son's
careless desertion of the guest in his charge. Again the court was
organised into search parties and there was no rest until the dauphin
was discovered some leagues from Brussels[7]. Here, also, it is an
easy presumption that the Count of Charolais was a trifle sulky over
his father's preoccupation in regard to the prince.
The transient character of the dauphin's sojourn in his cousin's
domains soon changed. In the summer of 1457, when news came that
Dauphiné had submitted to Charles VII., when the successive embassies
despatched by Philip to the king had all proved fruitless in their
conciliatory efforts, Philip proceeded to make more permanent
arrangements for the fugitive's comfort.
"Now, Monseigneur, since the king has been pleased to deprive you
of Dauphiné ... you are to-day lord and prince without land. But,
nevertheless, you shall not be without a country, for all that I
have is yours and I place it within your hand without reserving
aught except my life and that of my wife. Pray take heart. If God
does not abandon me I will never abandon you[8]."
The duke made good his words by giving his guest the estate of
Genappe, of which Louis took possession at the end of July. Then as a
further step to make things pleasant for the exile, Philip sent for
Charlotte of Savoy who had remained under her father's care ever since
the formal marriage in 1451. She was now eighteen.
It was an agreeable spot, this estate at Genappe. Louis's favourite
amusement of the chase was easy of access. "The court is at present
at Louvain," wrote a courtier[9] on July 1st, "and Monseigneur the
Dauphin likes it very much, for there is good hunting and falconry and
a great number of rabbits within and without the city." With killing
of every kind at his service, what greater solace could a homeless
prince expect?
From Louvain to Genappe is no great distance, and the sum of 1200
livres, furnished by Philip for the dauphin's journey to his new
abode, seemed a large provision. The pension then settled on him was
36,000 livres, and when the dauphiness arrived 1000 livres a month
were provided for her private purse[10].
Pleasant was existence in this château. There was no dearth of company
to throng around the prince in exile, and the dauphin allowed no
prejudice of mere likes and dislikes, no consideration of duty towards
his host to hamper him in making useful friends. A word here and
a word there, aptly thrown in at a time when Philip's anger had
exasperated, when Charles had failed to conciliate, were very potent
in intimating to many a Burgundian servant that there might come a
time when a new king across the border might better appreciate their
real value than their present or future sovereign.
Hunting was a favourite amusement, but the dauphin did not confine his
invitations to sportsmen. The easy accessibility of the little court
attracted men of science and of letters as well as others capable of
making the time pass agreeably. When there was nothing else on foot,
it is said that the company amused themselves by telling stories,
each in turn, and out of their tales grew the collection of the _Cent
Nouvelles Nouvelles_[11], named in imitation of Boccaccio's _Cento
Novelle_.
The first printed edition of this collection was issued in Paris, in
1486, by Antoine Verard, who thus admonishes the gentle reader: "Note
that whenever _Monseigneur_ is referred to, Monseigneur the Dauphin
must be understood, who has since succeeded to the crown and is King
Louis. Then he was in the land of the Duke of Burgundy." Another
editor asserts that _Monseigneur_ is evidently the Duke of Burgundy
and not Louis, and later authorities decide that Anthony de la Sale
wrote the whole collection in imitation of Boccaccio, and that the
names of the narrators were as imaginative or rather as editorial as
the rest of the volume.
If this be true, it maybe inferred that the author would have given an
appearance of verisimilitude to his fiction by mentioning the actual
habitués of the dauphin's court. The name of the Count of Charolais
does not appear at all. The duke tells three or more stories according
to the interpretation given to _Monseigneur_. With three exceptions
the tales are very coarse, nor does their wit atone for their
licentiousness. Possibly Charles held himself aloof from the kind of
talk they suggest. All reports make him rigid in standards of morality
not observed by his fellows. That he had little to do with the court
is certain, whatever his reason.
Louis did not confine himself to the estate assigned him. There were
various court visits to the Flemish towns where he was afforded
excellent opportunities for seeing the wealth of the burghers and
their status in the world of commerce.
Ghent was very anxious to have the duke bring his guest within her
gates and give her an opportunity of displaying her regret for the
past unpleasantness. "In his goodness," Philip at last yielded to
their entreaties to make them a visit himself, but he decided not to
take the prince or the count with him.[12] He was either afraid for
their safety or else he did not care to bring a future French king
into relation with citizens who might find it convenient to remember
his suzerainty in order to ignore the wishes of their sovereign
duke.[13]
Eastertide, 1458, was finally appointed for this state visit of
reconciliation. The duke took the precaution to send scouts ahead to
ascertain that the late rebels were sincere in their contrition, and
that there was no danger of anarchist agitations. The report was
brought back that all was calm and that joyful preparations were
making to show appreciation of Philip's kindness.
On April 22d, the duke slept at l'Écluse, and on the 23d he was gaily
escorted into the city by knights and gentlemen summoned from Holland,
Hainaut, and Flanders, "but neither clerks nor priests were in his
train." As a further assurance to him of their peaceful intention,
the citizens actually lifted the city gates off their hinges so as to
leave open exits.
Once within the walls, the duke found the whole community, who had
shown intelligent and sturdy determination not to endure arbitrary
tyranny, ready to weave themselves into a frenzy of biblical and
classical parable whose one purpose was to prove how evil had been
their ways. A pompous procession sang _Te Deum_ as the duke rode in,
and the first "mystery" that met his eyes within the gates was a
wonderful representation of Abraham sacrificing Isaac, while the
legend "All that the Lord commanded we will do," was meant not to
refer to the Hebrew's fidelity to Jehovah, but to the Ghenters'
perfect submission to Philip. A young girl stood ready to greet him
with the words of Solomon, "I have found one my soul loves."[14]
All the legends were in Latin. _Inveni quem diligit anima mea._]
Farther on there were various emblems all designed to compare
Philip now to Cæsar, now to Pompey, now to Nebuchadnezzar. The most
humiliating spectacle was that of a man dressed in a lion's skin,
thus personifying the Lion of Flanders, leading Philip's horse by the
bridle. "_Vive Bourgogne_ is now our cry," was symbolised in every
vehicle which the rhetoricians could invent.
Not altogether explicable is this extreme self-abnegation. Civic
prosperity must have returned in four years or there would have been
no money for the outlay. Apparently, Philip's countenance was worth
more to them than their pride.
The birth and death of two children at Genappe gave the duke new
reasons for showering ostentatious favours on his guest, and furnished
the dauphin with suitable occasion for addressing his own father, who
answered him in kind.
The following is one of the fair-phrased epistles[l5]:
_The King to the Dauphin_, 1459.
"VERY DEAR AND MUCH LOVED SON:
"We have received the letters that you wrote us making mention
that on July 27 our dear and much loved daughter, the dauphiness,
was delivered of a fine boy, for which we have been and are very
joyous, and it seems to me that the more God our Creator grants
you favour, by so much the more you ought to praise and thank
Him and refrain from angering Him, and in all things fulfil His
commandments.
"Given at Compiègne, Aug.7th.
"CHARLES.
During these five years, Charles was more or less aloof from the
courts of his father and of their guest. He spent part of the time in
Holland and part at Le Quesnoy with his young wife. The Count of St.
Pol was one of his intimate friends, and a friend who managed to
make many insinuations about the duke's treatment of his son and
infatuation about the Croys whom Charles hated with increasing
fervency.
There is a story that Charles went from Le Quesnoy to his father's
court to demand a formal audience from the duke in order to lodge his
protest against the Croys. Evidently relations were strained when such
a degree of ceremony was needed between father and son.
Gerard Ourré was commissioned to set forth the count's grievances, and
he was in the midst of his carefully prepared statement when the duke
interrupted him with the curt observation: "Have a care to say nothing
but the truth and understand, it will be necessary to prove every
assertion." The orator was discomfited, stammered on for a few
moments, and then excused himself from completing his harangue.
There were only a few nobles present and all were surprised at this
embarrassment, as Gerard passed for a clever man. Then, seeing that
his deputy was too much frightened to proceed, Charles took up the
thread of his discourse. In a firm voice he continued the list of
accusations against the Croys, only to be cut short in his turn.
Peremptory was the duke in his command to his son to be silent and
never again to refer to the subject. Then, turning to Croy, Philip
added "see to it that my son is satisfied with you," and withdrew from
the audience chamber.
Croy addressed Charles and endeavoured to be conciliatory. "When you
have repaired the ill you have wrought I will remember the good you
have done," was the count's only reply. He took leave of his father
with an outward show of love and respect and returned to his wife at
Le Quesnoy, escorted, indeed, by Croy out of the gates of Brussels,
but with no better understanding between them.
St. Pol found good ground to work on. He inflamed the count's
discontent and his distrust of the duke's favourite until Charles
despatched him to Bourges on a confidential mission to ascertain what
Charles VII. would do for the heir of Burgundy should he decide to
take refuge in the French court.[16]
At the first interview "I was not present," states the unknown
reporter, but on succeeding occasions this man heard for himself that
the king was ready to show hospitality to the Count of Charolais who
"has no ill intentions against his father. All he wants to do is to
separate him from the people who govern him badly."
The conferences were held in the lodgings of Odet d'Aydie. Among those
present was Dammartin and the matter was discussed in its various
aspects. Jehan Bureau and the anonymous witness were charged with
drawing up a report of the discussion. When this was presented to the
king it did not seem to him good. He doubted the good faith of the
count's message. He had been assured that it was all a fiction
especially designed by the Sieur de Burgundy.
Certain general promises were made in spite of this royal distrust,
quite natural under the circumstances. If he decided to espouse the
cause of Henry VI., the Count of Charolais should be given a command.
It was evident that the count was by no means ready to go to all
lengths, for St. Pol states in one of his conferences with the "late
king" that Charles of Burgundy had assured him that for two realms
such as his he would not do a deed of villainy.
Nothing came of this talk. It would have been a singular state of
affairs had the heirs of France and Burgundy thus changed places in
their fathers' courts. Spying and counterspying there were between
the courts to a great extent and rumours in number. A certain Italian
writes to the Duke of Milan as follows, on March 23, 1461, after he
had been at Genappe and at Brussels:[17]
"M. de Croy has given me clearly to understand that the
reconciliation of the dauphin with the King of France would not be
with the approval of the Duke of Burgundy. Nevertheless the prince
laments that since he received the dauphin into his states,
and treated him as his future sovereign, he has incurred the
implacable hatred of the king added to his ancient grievances. On
the other hand, the affairs of England, on whose issue depends war
or peace for the duke, being still in suspense, it did not seem to
him honest to make advances to the king at this moment.
"M. de Croy thinks that the dauphin does not seem to have carried
into this affair the circumspection and reflection befitting a
prince of his quality. He has maintained towards the duke the
most complete silence on the affair of Genoa, and the proposition
concerning Italy. Croy does not think there is anything in it,
but if the thing were so it ought not to be secret. He does not
believe that peace will be made between the dauphin and his
father, and mentioned that his brother was on the embassy from
duke to king, in order, I suppose, to probe the matter to the
bottom.
"The dauphin it seems has been out of humour with the Duke of
Burgundy on account of the luke-warmness shown for his interests
by the ambassador sent by this prince to the Duke of Savoy.
"The silent agreement which reigns between the dauphin and Monsg.
de Charolais is one of the causes which has chilled this great
love between the dauphin and the duke which existed at the
beginning.
"Moreover, the dauphin having spent largely, especially in
almsgiving without considering his purse finds himself very hard
pressed. He has only two thousand ducats a month from the Duke of
Burgundy and that seems to force him into peace with the king. The
duke expects nothing during the king's lifetime.
"Everything makes me want to wait here for the arrival of news
from England. It is expected daily, good or bad the last play must
be made. The duke fears a descent on Calais, and for this reason
is going to a town called St. Omer. Under pretext of celebrating
there the fête of the Toison d'Or he has ordered all his escort to
be armed."
[Illustration: PHILIP THE GOOD AND CHARLES THE BOLD. FROM A
CONTEMPORARY SKETCH IN MS.]
For a long time before his final illness the death of Charles VII. was
anticipated. When it came it was a dolorous end.[18] At Genappe, the
dauphin had been making his preparations for the wished-for event in
many ways, all in exact opposition to his father's policy. In Italy
and in Spain he sided with the opponents of Charles VII. In England,
his sympathies were all for the House of York because his father was
favourable to Henry of Lancaster and Margaret of Anjou. He learned
with satisfaction of the success of Edward IV., and was more than
willing to see him invade France. With certain princes of Germany he
entertained relations shrouded in mystery, while his father's own
agents disclosed secrets to him from time to time.
In his exile he kept reminding official bodies at Paris that he was
heir to the throne. As dauphin he claimed the right to give orders to
the _parlement_ at Grenoble. There is no actual proof that he had a
hand in the conspiracies which troubled the last year of his father's
reign, but it is certain that he managed to win to himself a party
within the royal circle.
Certain councillors, fearful of their own fate, did not hesitate to
suggest that Louis should be disinherited and his brother Charles put
in his stead, but this Charles VII. would not accept. He kept hoping
for Louis's submission. The latter, however, had no idea of this. He
was sure that his father would not live to grow old. A trouble in his
leg threatened to be cancerous. In July, there was a growth in his
mouth. He died July 22nd, convinced that his son had poisoned him.
After July 17th constant bulletins from the king's bedside came to
Louis. Genappe was too far and the anxious son moved to Avesnes
in order to receive his messages more speedily. Our chronicler
Chastellain[19] begins his story of Louis's accession as follows:
"Since I am not English but French, I who am neither Spanish nor
Italian but French, I have written of two Frenchmen, the one king,
the other duke. I have written of their works and their quarrels
and of the favour and glories which God has given them in their
time.
* * * * *
"Kings die, reigns vanish but virtue alone and meritorious works
serve man on his bier and gain him eternal glory. O you Frenchmen,
see the cause and the end in my labours!"
The guest who had displayed so much humility and thankfulness when he
arrived, who had deprecated honours to his high birth and desired to
offer all the courtesies, departed from the residence so generously
given him for five years in a very cavalier manner.
"Now the king left the duke's territories without having taken
leave nor said adieu to the Countess of Charolais,[20] although he
was in her neighbourhood, and he left behind him the queen, his
wife. The said queen had neither hackneys nor vehicles with which
to follow her husband. Therefore, the king ordered her to borrow
the hackneys of the countess and chariots, too. Heartily did the
countess accede to this request in spite of the fact that the
thing seemed to her rather strange that a noble king, and one who
had received so much honour and service from the House of Burgundy
and had promised to recognise it when the hour came, should thus
depart thence without saying a word. However, in spite of all, the
countess would gladly have given the queen the hackneys as a gift
if they had been asked, and she sent them to her by one of her
equerries named Corneille de la Barre, together with chariots and
waggons. And thus the queen left the country just as her husband
had done without saying a word either to the duke or the countess,
and Corneille went with her on foot to bring back the hackneys
when the queen had arrived at the place of her desire."
Philip had difficulty in persuading his quondam guest to show outward
respect to his father's memory. The duke clad himself and his suite
in deep mourning before setting out to join Louis at Avesnes, whither
representatives from the University of Paris and from all parts of the
realm had flocked to greet their new sovereign.
It was a great concourse that marched from Avesnes as escort to the
uncrowned king. Philip was magnificent in his appointments as he
entered Rheims, and behind him came his son,
"the Count of Charolais who, equally with his noble company of
knights and squires, attracted hearts and eyes in admiration of
his rich array wherein cloth of gold and jewelry, velvet and
embroidery were lavishly displayed. And the count had ten pages
and twenty-six archers, and this whole company numbered three
hundred horse."[21]
This was a Thursday after dinner. Louis had waited at St. Thierry. On
the actual day of the coronation, preliminaries absorbed so much time
that the long cavalcade did not enter Rheims until seven o'clock. The
king passed his night in a very pious and prayerful manner, taking no
repose until 5 A.M. While his suite were occupied at their toilets he
slipped off alone to church.
Finally all was ready for the grand ceremony. Very magnificent were
the duke's robes and ermine when, as chief among the peers, he
escorted his late guest to be consecrated king, and very devout and
simple was Louis. After the consecration, the king and his friends
listened to an address from the Bishop of Tournay, in which he
described in Latin the dauphin's sojourn in the Netherlands.
The Duke of Burgundy was the hero of the occasion. He felt that all
future power was in his hands and that Louis XI. could never do enough
to repay him for his wonderful hospitality. And for a time Louis was
quite ready to foster this belief. When they entered Paris, the peer
so far outshone the sovereign that there was general astonishment.[22]
Moreover, whatever the latter did have was a gift. The very plate used
on the royal table was a ducal present.[23]
Louis took great pains to preserve an attitude of grateful humility.
When he met the _parlement_ of Paris, he asked the duke's advice about
its reformation. It was to Philip that all the petitioners flocked.
But Louis was conscious, too, that there would be a morrow in
Burgundy, and he took care to be friendly with the count even while he
was flattering the duke. For this purpose he found Guillaume de Biche
a very useful go-between.[24] This was one of the retainers dismissed
in 1457 by Charles at his father's request. He had then passed into
Louis's service. This man quickly insinuated himself into the king's
graces, was admitted to his chamber at all hours, and walked arm in
arm with the returned exile through Paris.
The Burgundian exile had learned the mysteries of the city well in
his four years' residence. Louis found him an amusing companion and
skilfully managed to flatter the count by his favour towards the man
whom he had liked.
For six weeks Philip remained in the capital and astonished the
Parisians with the fêtes he offered. Equally astonished were they
with their new monarch. Louis was thirty-eight and not attractive in
person. His eyes were piercing but his visage was made plain by a
disproportionate nose. His legs were thin and misshapen, his gait
uncertain. He dressed very simply, wearing an old pilgrim's hat,
ornamented by a leaden saint. As he rode into Abbeville in company
with Philip, the simple folk who had never seen the king were greatly
amazed at his appearance and said quite loud, "Benedicite! Is that a
king of France, the greatest king in the world? All together his horse
and dress are not worth twenty francs."[25]
From the beginning of his reign, Louis XI. never lived very long in
any one place. He did not like the Louvre as a dwelling and had
the palace of the Tournelles arranged for him. Touraine became by
preference his residence, where he lived alternately at Amboise and
in his new château at Plessis-lès-Tours. But his sojourns were always
brief. He wanted to know everything, and he wandered everywhere to
see France and to seek knowledge. His letters, his accounts, the
chroniclers, the despatches of the Italian ambassador, show him on a
perpetual journey.
He would set out at break of day with five or six intimates dressed in
grey cloth like pilgrims; archers and baggage followed at a distance.
He would forbid any one to follow him, and often ordered the gates of
the city he had left to be closed, or a bridge to be broken behind
him. Ambassadors ordered to see him without fail, sometimes had to
cross France to obtain an interview, at least if their object was
something in which he was not much interested. Then he would often
grant them an audience in some miserable little peasant hut.
In the cities where he stopped he would lodge with a burgomaster or
some functionary. To avoid harangues and receptions he would often
arrive unannounced through a little alley. If forced to accept an
_entrée_ he stipulated that it should not be marked with magnificence.
There never was a prince who so disliked ceremonies, balls, banquets,
and tourneys. At his court young people were bored to death. He never
ordered festivals except for some visitor; his pleasures were those
of a simple private gentleman. He liked to dine out of his palace.
Cagnola relates with surprise that he had seen the king dine after
mass in a tavern on the market-place at Tours. He invited small nobles
and bourgeois to dine with him. He was intimate, too, with bourgeois
women, and indulged in gross pleasantries, speaking to and of women
without reserve, sparing neither sister, mother, nor queen.
Yet it was a sombre court. "Farewell dames, citizens, demoiselles,
feasts, dances, jousts, and tournaments; farewell fair and gracious
maids, mundane pleasures, joys, and games," says Martial d'Auvergne.
Pompous magnificence may have reminded Louis unpleasantly of his visit
to Burgundy.
[Footnote 1: He had departed with Adolph de la Marck on November
19th.--_Archives du Nord_. See Du Fresne de Beaucourt, vi., 113. No
mention of this seems to appear elsewhere.]
[Footnote 2: Chastellain (iii., 233) says that he heard the story from
the clerk of the chapel, sole witness of this family quarrel. The duke
was so angry that it was hideous to see him.]
[Footnote 3: La Marche, ii., 418; Du Clercq, ii., 237; Chastellain,
iii., 230, etc. In the last the narrative is more elaborate. The
author dwells much on the danger to the young countess in her delicate
state of health.]
[Footnote 4: "Thus there was much coming and going: and it was ordered
by Monseigneur le Dauphin that Monseigneur de Ravestein and the
king-at-arms of the Toison d'Or should go to Dendermonde to learn the
wishes of the Count of Charolais and his intentions, of which I am
entitled to speak for I was despatched several times to Brussels in
behalf of my said Seigneur of Charolais, to ask the advice of the
Chancellor Raulin as to the best method of conducting the present
affair"--(La Marche, ii., 419.)]
[Footnote 5: La Marche, ii., 420. One of these, Guillaume Biche, went
to France and La Marche says that he himself often went to him to
obtain valuable information.]
[Footnote 6: La Marche, ii., 418.]
[Footnote 7: Du Clercq, ii., 239.]
[Footnote 8: Chastellain, iii., 308.]
[Footnote 9: Du Fresne de Beaucourt, vi., 123. Thierry de Vébry to the
Count de Vaudemart.]
[Footnote 10: Du Fresne de Beaucourt, vi., 123.]
[Footnote 11: _Les Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles_, ed. A.J.V. Le Roux. The
stories are, as a rule, only retold tales.]
[Footnote 12: "The spectacle was not witnessed by Count Charolais
nor by Louis the Dauphin, nor by the Lord of Croy, whom for certain
reasons he was unwilling to take with him." (Meyer, P.322.)]
[Footnote 13: Kervyn, _Hist. de Flandre_, v., 23. At this time Philip
was ignoring a peremptory summons to appear before the Parliament of
Paris.]
[Footnote 14: Meyer, p. 321.
[Footnote 15: Du Fresne de Beaucourt, vi., 267.]
[Footnote 16: Report of an eye-witness. (Duclos, v., 195.)]
[Footnote 17: Du Fresne de Beaucourt. vi., 326.]
[Footnote 18: Lavisse, iv^{ii}, 321.]
[Footnote 19: IV., 21.]
[Footnote 20: Chastellain, iv., 45.]
[Footnote 21: Chastellain was not present, but he says of Philip's
suite (iv., 47): "From what I have been told and what I have seen in
writing, it was a wonderful thing and its like had never been seen in
this kingdom."]
[Footnote 22: "And I, myself, assert this for I was there and saw all
the nobles" (Chastellain, iv., 52).]
[Footnote 23: When return presents were distributed to the nobles
Philip received a lion, Charles a pelican.]
[Footnote 24: Chastellain, iv., 115.]
[Footnote 25: Lavisse, iv^{ii}, 325.]